To Walk A Country Mile (standard:adventure, 680 words)
Author: J P St. Jullian	Added: Jul 13 2002	Views/Reads: 3768/1	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Revisiting a place of youthful adventures can be uplifting!

I often think of my Mississippi roots and the childhood friendships born
of those faraway hills, then I get homesick.  Those were real 
friendships, molded of trust since childhood, and compassion, and a 
deep love of nature and the changing seasons.  Those long ago youthful 
friendships were nourished to forge lasting links in the long chain of 
time; links that still, and will endure the test of time. 

I must go back some day, and take a friend, with whom I will walk a mile
through the meadows and over the hills of my youth in my old community 
of Buffalo, in the early days of summertime.  We'll follow along the 
path of the old creek that still gurgles its way down the slopes and 
around bends in our property, making sounds that remind me of wonderful 
days spent fishing there, as it seeks its gateway to the mighty 
Mississippi River. 

As we walk, I will tell my friend of adventures long past as I point out
interesting landscapes, and we will laugh at my adolescent escapades 
while we sense the springtime taking its leave of us as summer opens 
wide the doors to longer days of sunshine.  And as we look around, my 
friend and I, we will see that the preparation for this miracle we are 
beholding has long been underway, for in what seems to be a bursting 
display of finery, flowers blooming in meadows surrounded by pear and 
plum trees, apple trees with their festive blooms, and dogwoods with 
their majestic flowers transforming a hillside into patches of white as 
if in ridicule of the brown grass of winter on the meadow floor slowly 
fading to green with the advent of summer. 

As we stand in the meadow, my friend and I, we turn about this way and
that, to see how spring has reigned supreme, and now releases her pent 
up glory in a profusion of glorious blossoms and blooms.  She scatters 
her bouquets of beauty along the pathway of the seasonal year to let 
summer make her entrance with royal dignity, and majesty.  On we walk, 
until we come to an intersecting path that leads to an old country home 
with its hedges of lilacs that splash their hues of purple and white 
and lavender around wooden galleries--galleries that have entertained 
the footsteps of three, maybe four generations of the same family.  
Adding to the beauty of this gorgeous landscape are the blooms of  
white lilac cascading off the end of the well kept lawn, blooms which 
have had their place in beds of flowers for over a half century or 
more. 

Walking on, my friend and I will come upon a neglected field where
daisies have taken hold, and hawkweed, and field sorrel! We pause, 
listening to the songs of birds and the rhythmic sounds of the leaves 
rustling in the wind.  A time for silence.  I remember well how the 
melodies of summer go so well with meadows of wild flowers and sunlight 
in our rural Mississippi community. 

It is meadows such as this that the Bobolinks return to each year, along
with other birds as well that frequent these meadows.  My friend and I 
will sit upon cool grass, and listen long to the rollicking song of the 
birds as they hover about, tending to their instinctively driven 
affairs.  Oh, to hear the orchestral sounds of nature as played by the 
Bobwhites, Meadowlarks, and the Killdeer and as they proclaim tenancy 
of this vast meadow.  The Mockingbirds, Bluejays, Robins, Redbirds  and 
all the rest also stake claim to the wide, spreading acres of the land. 
 Though the Mockingbird reigns supreme as the State Bird, there is 
ample room for all. 

Such walkers we, my friend and I, who follow the ways of the seasons and
hills, year after year, seek the contentment to be found in both bird 
and bloom.  Yes, such walkers as us will find solace in each other and 
in the soft June winds whispering in the great oaks and pines, carrying 
the sounds of my beloved Mississippi. 


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